Conversations about Anything and Everything
by Nothing is Beautiful and True1
Summary: Arturia works at a bar. Gilgamesh owns said bar. They meet and talk. That's... pretty much it. Or is it? Dun dun dun. Modern AU.
1. Meet Cute

A/N: I told myself I'd never write a "modern" AU. Or whatever you want to call it. Oh well. This isn't a serious story, more a fun little side project. Expect fluffiness and shenanigans. Actually, expect nothing, and I'll deliver even less.

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 _"It is absurd to divide people into good and bad. People are either charming or tedious."_

Arturia didn't much care for waitressing at a bar. It involved a lot of stress and drunks who were often angry or handsy or both. Usually both. Still, it was a job that paid, and she was a broke college student trying to make ends meet. So she kept a stiff upper lip and did her duty without complaint.

It helped that her boss was a woman, at least. Siduri was brusque but fair, and treated Arturia with respect. She always stood up for her employees if a patron was being rude or unreasonable, and Arturia appreciated that fact.

That night, the bartender had called in sick, and thus Siduri was there filling in. Being under the watchful eye of her boss always put Arturia on edge. She was a good, hard worker and she knew it, but that didn't stop the paranoid voice in the back of her head from nagging at her all shift long to double, triple, and then quadruple check everything was in order.

That night, a man who was most certainly not a regular came in. Arturia wouldn't have forgotten him in a hurry, at least. His clothes were made of silk, he wore expensive jewelry, the most prominent being a gaudy golden necklace, and he possessed an extraordinary beauty. Arturia had never described a man as beautiful before, but there was an undeniable femininity to his elegant features.

He bought everyone at the bar a round of drinks, establishing himself as the center of attention for quite some time. The hubbub died down after a bit, and the strange man sequestered himself in a corner and just observed everyone else. It was all rather odd, and when Arturia began to approach to take his order, Siduri pulled her aside.

"Leave him to me," Siduri said, lips pressed thin. Arturia nodded, although now she was well and truly curious. She could feel his gaze on the both of them, and the sensation was akin to being pricked by needles. Regardless, she busied herself with the other customers and forgot about it until closing time came.

Siduri was in back, cleaning, and the bar had emptied out. But the beautiful blonde man was still nursing the same glass of wine he'd ordered hours earlier, watching Arturia as she swept trash out from under tables. After a couple minutes, in which she circled around the strange golden man multiple times, she decided this was a ridiculous farce and took matters into her own hands.

"Sir," she called out. "We're closing."

"I've been here for quite some time, and yet you still haven't taken my order, little..." He squinted and read her name tag. "Arturia. Why is that?"

He had a smooth, honeyed voice, and his earrings glittered and clinked with his every move. Wary, she stared back at him, holding her broom in front of her like a shield.

"Didn't Siduri help you?" Arturia shot him a pointed look. He swirled the drink in his hand, watched the blood red wine whirl about in the cup.

"I would much rather be served by you." He granted her a wide grin.

Arturia resisted the urge to huff and roll her eyes. She knew what bottle Siduri had gotten for him, and went ahead and poured another glass. When she returned, he reached and took it out of her hand, his fingers brushing against her own. A light tingle sparked across her skin, goose bumps erupting along her arms. She shivered and then berated herself for letting that happen. Rookie mistake.

"There you are. Now you should probably go," Arturia said. "I need to finish, or else I'll get in trouble." Had Siduri drowned in the sink or something? Where was she?

"I have premonitions. Rest assured, you'll be fine," he said with a straight face. She stared at him and tried to discern whether or not he was being serious. "Sit down and converse with me. I'm lonely and tortured and I need the company of a beautiful woman to save me from myself."

Not serious, then. At least she hoped that was the case, otherwise she had a big problem on her hands. Against her better judgment, Arturia took a seat, setting the broom aside. He was interesting, which was not the type of person she often saw at the bar.

Besides, she was mildly flattered that he called her beautiful. Not that other people hadn't, but they tended to be inebriated and twice her age, as opposed to sober and good looking.

He took a long draught of wine, and she watched the muscles in his neck work, accentuated by the deep 'V' of his shirt. Arturia wondered when it had gotten quite so warm in the building. He set down the cup and smacked his lips, appearing satisfied.

"You really need to leave," Arturia said, her words betraying her impatience. He rested his chin in the palm of his hand and smirked at her.

"I don't know, last I checked I could spend as much time as I pleased at establishments I owned. Closing or not." He had the look of a cat that just caught a large, juicy bird. Aghast, she did a double take.

Arturia knew the bar was owned by an eccentric millionaire who liked to buy wineries and places of a similar nature, simply because he could, but she'd never met him before. She didn't think he even lived in the area. Upon further reflection, she didn't even know his name. Could this strange blonde man really be the owner? Siduri had acted oddly around him, and he had the _look_ of an eccentric millionaire. What was the owner's name, again? It escaped her.

"I suppose you can stay, then," she said, for lack of a better response.

"That is very generous of you." He seemed amused.

"Yes, well." Arturia cleared her throat. She needed to get back to work. And find Siduri, to either confirm what he'd told her was true or to kick him out.

"I might be more inclined to leave if I had someone to bring home with me," he suggested. She twitched.

"Pass," Arturia said.

That caught him off guard, and then he pouted. She returned his stare, although she was surprised to find she wasn't that annoyed by his blatant proposition. Maybe it was because there was something almost surreal about it all, but she didn't lend the situation much gravitas.

"Why not?" he asked. Arturia shot him an incredulous look.

"Are you joking? I don't know you," she said.

"I'm Gilgamesh. There, problem solved," he said, and smiled a cheeky smile. Arturia sighed.

"That's not what I meant and you know it." She tucked a bang behind her ear. The next statement slipped out before she could think it through. "Besides, I have standards."

It occurred to Arturia, then, that if this Gilgamesh really was the owner, her flippant mannerisms could get her fired. What if this was test? She should get back to work. The blonde man appeared insulted.

"I _am_ the standard." Gilgamesh raised an eyebrow. It was such a blatant, egotistical statement, and once again, she couldn't tell if he was being facetious or not.

"I didn't mean it like that," Arturia said, reddening with embarrassment.

"Then what did you mean?" he asked. She didn't much want to discuss this, but her accursed honesty was activating and taking over.

"I'm... saving myself for marriage." Saying it out loud always made Arturia feel foolish. Which was ridiculous, because it was her decision, there was no reason for shame. Gilgamesh blinked and tilted his head.

"Why?" he asked, seeming genuine and curious. Arturia shrugged.

"Because I want it to be special," she said, unsure how else to explain her reasoning. It was something she'd decided a long time ago, a choice swathed in a surprising amount of romanticism. She couldn't even quite recall why, exactly, she'd made a vow a chastity, only that she had and she stuck by it.

"That's rather idealistic of you." Gilgamesh looked amused again.

"It's not that difficult. A little restraint never hurt anyone." Arturia scoffed and scuffed the wood floor with her foot. It left a mark and she regretted the action almost immediately. She began to rub it clean with her toe, and thus couldn't see Gilgamesh's expression when he next spoke.

"Well, what if I asked you to marry me, then?" he asked. Her head jerked up.

"What? No," Arturia said. He looked flabbergasted, as if that had been his trump card and her refusal was inconceivable. What a bizarre person.

"Why not?" he asked, his question tinted with petulance.

"I still don't know you," she reminded him. "Besides, I want my husband to be a man of character." Why was she telling him this? Arturia decided not to think too hard about it.

"I have lots of character," Gilgamesh said. He waved the golden bangle hanging off his wrist in front of her face, as if that proved his point.

"Good character," Arturia clarified.

"I'm attractive and rich, that's as good as it gets," he replied.

"You realize calling yourself attractive is considered unattractive, right?" she asked.

"Not when it's true and stated with confidence. Then it's endearing." Giglamesh smirked. Arturia rolled her eyes and changed the subject.

"Character, Gilgamesh. Character. Not material things like money," she said.

"Money is the greatest character there is, Arturia. If the world's a stage, and we're the actors, then money is the director, driving and motivating us even when we don't realize it. Or are you working here because you love your job?" Gilgamesh leaned back, his arms dangling off the edge of the chair. Arturia frowned and considered him.

"That's rather cynical of you," she noted.

"Realistic," Gilgamesh corrected. Delusional. She moved on.

"I have a hard time imagining someone like you would ever want to get married," Arturia said.

"Marriage is an institution designed by the establishment to enslave young men with bright futures," Gilgamesh said. She snorted. "But if you'll recall, that was my plan B. I would much rather us spend one night of passion and pleasure together. Then, twenty years down the line, when you're bored and miserable and secretly hate your husband and all his 'good character', you can remember me and feel a fond nostalgia and briefly forget how meaningless life is."

"You know how to charm a woman, I see," Arturia said, dry and unamused. She was still rather warm, and wiped her clammy palms on her uniform. Had Siduri cranked up the heat when Arturia wasn't paying attention? She decided to investigate once this issue was dealt with.

"It is one of my finest qualities," Gilgamesh confirmed.

"There are good men out there, men that you can spend the rest of your life with and be content," Arturia said, growing a little bit irritated for the first time. "You just have to be patient and willing."

"I have met no such men," he said haughtily.

"I'm surprised you deigned to look," she retorted, her tone turned snippy. Gilgamesh appeared startled, and then he chuckled and smirked.

"You really won't leave with me?" he asked.

Arturia would've been lying if she didn't admit she was tempted. He was handsome and intelligent and charismatic; his red eyes burned with an attractive intensity. The allure of the unknown sat across from her, grinning like the devil. She swallowed and wondered how much time had passed, as she'd become rather engrossed in the exchange of dialogue between them.

"No. And even if I wanted to, which I don't, I need to close. I'm running late as it is," Arturia said. He regarded her for a moment, and then reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He counted a respectable wad of cash and laid it before her.

"A tip," he said. Her eyes widened as she realized how much money was sitting on the table.

"I can't accept this," she said, mouth hanging open a little.

"Think of it as an added benefit for being graced by my presence," Gilgamesh said.

"I can't," Arturia said, although now she was frowning in response to such a ludicrous statement. Regardless, taking so much felt wrong. He shook his head and returned half the cash. It was still far too much, in her opinion, but Arturia supposed it would be rude to turn down the compromise.

"You work tomorrow?" Gilgamesh asked. She gave him an odd look.

"Yes," she said.

"I'll see you then." He stood and exited.

Arturia watched his retreating back, and then pulled a face. Turning, she realized Siduri was behind the counter, staring at her. Neither spoke at first.

"I apologize," Arturia said. "I'll make sure everything gets finished."

"Don't worry about it. Gilgamesh is a very annoying man," Siduri replied. "He doesn't realize time won't stand still for people just by being near him. I'll help. Come on."

They worked in silence. Arturia's diligence throughout the shift made it a far easier task than it otherwise would've been. She tried not to dwell on the strange events of the night, as she cleared Gilgamesh's wine glasses away.

"Thank you," Arturia said, when all the tedious chores were completed.

"Don't worry about it," Siduri said again. "Watch out for Gilgamesh. He's a natural disaster waiting to happen."

"I can handle myself," Arturia replied, but she averted her gaze. Her cheeks grew heated, and she knew she was blushing.


	2. Coincidence, I Think Not

_"In this world there are only two tragedies. One is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it."_

True to his word, Gilgamesh came back the next night. And the next. And the night after that.

He didn't bother Arturia, however, and thus she was content to ignore him. She could sometimes feel his eyes linger on her, though, while she attended to others. When Arturia brought Gilgamesh his drink or his check, he always wore a huge smirk and had a pithy witticism to share. It was annoying, but he tipped well, extremely well in fact, so she supposed she couldn't get too irritated.

Otherwise, the week passed without incident. Arturia was rather looking forward to the weekend, because she'd be working her second job, and it was far more enjoyable compared to her night shift at the bar.

Saturday morning, she stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the tie of her suit.

"You look like a dude," said her adopted brother, Keith. He leaned against the doorway, a bottle of beer in his hand.

"Duly noted. Why are you drinking at ten in the morning?" Arturia asked.

"Ah, well. Drowning my sorrows or what have you, as I'm pretty sure I failed my history of the arts exam." He took a swig for emphasis. She frowned. "I'm going to a party tonight. You want to come?"

"I can't. I have to study." Arturia gave him a hard stare. "You should do the same. Learn how to swim, and then there would be no need for… drowning."

"Yeah, well, who goes to college to learn things? It's all about the experience," Keith said. She thought something unkind, then, but kept her mouth shut. "Dad called, by the way. He says hello."

Arturia hesitated and then nodded. She slipped on a pair of sleek leather black gloves, frowning as she gave herself another once over. It was an expensive suit, and Arturia fussed with the collar, worried that there might be dust or lint showing. While she wore it, she'd be walking around as if on egg shells.

"Art," Keith said. She looked at him. He had a strange expression on his face. "Don't work too hard."

Arturia softened, coming toward her brother and clapping him on the shoulder. She remembered when they were young and close to the same height. Now she had to look up to make contact, and she traced the peach fuzz decorating Keith's cheeks with her eyes. Arturia said, "Chauffeuring is hardly what I'd describe as arduous."

"Chaffeuressing," he corrected.

"That's not a word." Arturia smiled and then scowled as Keith patted her on the head. His hand felt warm and heavy. "Don't do that."

"It is now." Keith grinned and then dodged when she tried to punch him. He was lucky she was wearing a suit that cost more than their lives put together, or else she would've beaten him into a pulp. Fixing her mussed hair and loose ponytail, Arturia left the apartment they shared grumbling under her breath.

The von Einzbern estate wasn't far. Much of the time was spent winding her way up the overly long drive. It was a large, sprawling stone mansion, akin to a castle, and it reminded Arturia of home. According to her employer, they'd modeled it after the original house back in Germany. She pulled around the back, and entered using the code given to her.

Kiritsugu Emiya was waiting in the kitchen. The bodyguard watched Arturia, his dark eyes blank. Arturia stared back, steady and expressionless. Inwardly, though, she was thinking about how much she disliked Kiritsugu. She sensed it was a mutual dislike. Enjoying the company of a coworker was a bonus, not a given, however, and she quashed the feeling.

"Oh, Saber, you're wearing the suit I got you! You look so dapper!" Irisviel came flying into the room, laughing as she reached out and tugged at the lapels of the suit. Coughing, Arturia tried not to appear flustered, and smiled at the pale haired upper class woman.

"Ah, yes. Thank you for the gift, Irisviel," she said.

"Iri, call me Iri, everyone does," Irisviel replied. She took a step back and twirled to show off her white coat. "What do you think? We complement each other! I did that on purpose." She laughed again, a bright, cheerful sound.

Some people had irritating laughs – Irisviel von Einzbern was not one of them. Out of the corner of her eye, Arturia noticed Kiritsugu had relaxed as well. He looked as close to affectionate as he was capable of emoting.

"I think you're both dashing," said a deep, familiar voice.

Horrified, Arturia tensed and felt the smile wipe clean off her face. Gilgamesh stood out in the hall, arms folded, smirking as he stared at her. He had to be wearing one of the gaudiest suits she'd ever laid eyes on, a jacket of leopard print.

"Ah, that's very kind of you, Gilgamesh," Irisviel said politely.

She was shy all of a sudden, which put Arturia even more on edge. What was happening? She'd gotten a call stating her services were required for the weekend, but that was the extent of her knowledge. A chauffeur was expected to know where they were going, not why they were going.

"Of course. I'm a paragon of virtue." He flashed Arturia a million watt smile. She gritted her teeth but didn't respond. Irisviel glanced between the two of them and blinked.

"Have you met before?" she asked.

"Yes." Arturia was not amused.

"We have such scintillating conversations," Gilgamesh informed Irisviel. "Your taste in staff is excellent."

"Thank you?" she said uncertainly. Arturia had the urge to hit something, then.

"We should get a move on," Kiritsugu spoke up. He tapped his watch for emphasis. "We're running late as it is."

Arturia left to retrieve the limousine, silently fuming. She had a sneaking suspicion as to what was occurring, and there were multiple reasons why it infuriated her, tangled together in a confusing, emotional knot she couldn't quite decipher. Holding the car door open for Irisviel and Gilgamesh, Arturia ignored the blonde haired man as he slid past her.

Once settled in the driver's seat, Arturia gripped the steering wheel and checked her rearview mirror. Gilgamesh and Irisviel were on opposite ends, both gazing out their respective window. Kiritsugu took the passenger seat beside Arturia, stiff and impossible to read. There was a strange tension in the air, and she tried to recall when she'd last been caught in such an awkward situation. Her memory drew a blank.

"Destination?" Arturia was the first to break the silence.

"We're going to the mall!" Irisviel exclaimed with an excited smile. Arturia knew the pale haired woman didn't get out much, and couldn't help but feel happy for her. The rest of the ride was quite pleasant, as Irisviel chattered about all the things she planned to do while there ("I even made an itinerary!").

Arturia liked chauffeuring quite a lot. Even though Americans were terribly uncouth, driving on the wrong side of the road and all. There was just something about cruising down an open stretch of asphalt that calmed her, as the surroundings slid past like a tracking camera shot. She idled around to the front entrance of the mall and let the trio out.

"I'll contact you when we're ready to rendezvous," Kiritsugu said. Arturia nodded. Gilgamesh was trying to get her attention, but she continued to pay him no heed. Once they departed, she got in the limo and parked. She checked her phone, ensuring it wasn't on silent, and then rested her head back and sighed.

Now for the waiting game.

Luckily, Arturia had stashed some of her textbooks in the glovebox compartment. It would give her a means to pass the time. She didn't move, however, eyes closed. She'd worked all week at the bar, picking up extra shifts whenever they were available, and then there was school on top of it. Arturia hadn't had a full eight hours of sleep since the semester started. There was no harm in a brief respite, right?

A loud, insistent tap on the window caused Arturia to flinch, right as she was beginning to drift off.

She straightened, drowsy, and located the source of the noise. Gilgamesh was standing on the passenger side of the limo. Arturia knew for a fact he couldn't see anything, because of the tinted windows, but his unnerving red eyes seemed to peer straight into her soul. Of course, the effect was diminished somewhat thanks to that _stupid_ jacket he was wearing. She stared, muttered a curse under her breath, and rolled down the window a sliver.

"Don't touch the glass. Also, what are you doing here?" Arturia asked.

"Let me in," Gilgamesh responded. Her expression morphed into a glare.

Arturia rolled the window back up.

She locked the doors, too. They were automatic, but she wanted to be sure, and besides, there was something satisfying about the loud click a car lock made. She then proceeded to reach for the compartment in search for her history textbook. Arturia glanced up and saw Gilgamesh was still there, with a ticked off look on his face.

That made her feel better. Then Arturia realized she was being childish, and reprimanded herself. What was she doing, anyway? He was the owner of the main job she worked. He could fire her on a whim, if he wanted. And yet, for some reason, she didn't think Gilgamesh would do that. Actually, Arturia did think he would do that, but not to her. Did that make her conceited?

Regardless, it was cold outside. They were in the midst of autumn, and it grew cooler every day with winter's approach. He might get sick, and who knew how long he'd wait around acting stubborn, wearing clothes inappropriate for both the weather and the public eye. Cursing her basic human decency, Arturia rolled down the window again and unlocked the limo.

"Get in," she said.

"You should have those locks checked," Gilgamesh said as he ripped the door open, but his voice was tight and she could tell he was mad. He slammed it shut with a loud bang. "They don't seem to be working properly."

"Why aren't you with Irisviel and Kiritsugu?" Arturia demanded, not dignifying that with a response. Gilgamesh scoffed and appeared indignant.

"I refuse to be a third wheel," he said. It took a split second to sink in, and then Arturia found she was gawking, distracted from her own seething rage.

"You could tell?" she asked.

"Premonitions, remember? Besides, it was like a neon sign." Gilgamesh sounded waspish. "I could smell the sexual tension."

"That's… disgusting," Arturia said. He looked at her and she could visibly see his irritation siphoning away. He grinned.

"Are you stalking me?" Gilgamesh asked. Arturia scowled at the steering wheel.

"I could ask you the same question," she said. On the edge of her peripheral vision, she watched him pout and slink low into his seat.

"My mother is obsessed with marrying me off to some rich, single woman. What is it with mothers and marriage? I'm her son, she should want me around so that she can bask in the radiance she birthed from her vagina," he said. Arturia didn't know how to respond, in part because it was absurd, everything about this situation was absurd, and also because she'd never known her mother. There was only ever Keith and Hector.

"I see." Her words were icy. "And this outing has been in the works for a while?"

"Yes, it's why I came here." Gilgamesh put his feet on the dashboard, and Arturia twitched. She narrowed her eyes and he seemed to become aware of her ire for the first time. "What?"

"Get your shoes off my dash. Just so we're clear," Arturia said, enunciating slowly, sharply, and with a cold clarity. "That night, at the bar, when you – when you _propositioned_ me," she could see him straightening, mouthing the word 'proposition', his lips curling upward in amusement, and that served to anger her further, "you _knew_ that you would be going out with another woman in the span of a few days!"

Gilgamesh stared at her. There was an awkward pause. Then he said, "Oh, you're jealous."

Arturia slammed her hands on the wheel. The horn blared and she jerked, startled and swearing, her original accent bleeding through her neutral English. Gilgamesh began laughing. It was most definitely an irritating sound.

"No! I'm _concerned_ that Irisviel is getting involved with – with a ruffian!" Arturia managed to sputter, raising her voice to override his mirth. Ruffian? Maybe Keith was right, and she was a fifty year old man trapped in the body of a twenty year old woman. She was turning red, indignant and even a tiny bit wounded, which seemed to inspire all the more raucous laughter from him.

"I think," he managed to choke out, "it's a little late for that."

Gilgamesh wiped away an invisible tear and they stared at each other, breathing hard for different reasons. Her heart started to thump in her chest, rapid and almost painful, and all of a sudden Arturia found she couldn't meet his line of sight. She blushed and looked out the window, at the cold concrete of the parking garage.

"Grandchildren and marriage," he said.

"What?" Arturia asked. It was such a random statement.

"Mothers. They're all obsessed with grandchildren and marriage. If you take the first letter of each, you get a 'g' and an 'm'. GM. GrandMother! The pinnacle of womanhood. I think I figured it out," Gilgamesh said with a sage nod.

"What?" Arturia felt the need to repeat herself.

"Sometimes I say things so clever I amaze even myself," he explained, explaining nothing in the process.

"You're…" Arturia couldn't think of a word that would adequately describe what she was thinking. Arrogant? Deluded? Egotistical? Insane? Gilgamesh grinned and rotated his shoulders.

"Or general manager," he mused aloud. "Do you like football?"

Arturia hesitated.

"American football or proper football?" she asked, seeking clarification. He snorted.

"Proper football," Gilgamesh said.

"Yes." Arturia didn't elaborate. He gave her an expectant look and she furrowed her brow.

"Well, what team do you support?" he asked, a little impatient. She ducked her head, embarrassed.

"Newport County," she muttered. Gilgamesh did a double take, clearly not expecting that answer.

"Who?" he asked and Arturia gritted her teeth.

"Newport County," she said, louder, "They achieved promotion for the first time since 1988 a few years back, you know."

"Promotion – to where?" Now he was the one sporting a furrowed brow.

League Two," she admitted. He gaped and then burst out laughing. "It's not funny! They're my local team, I grew up watching them." She sulked, drumming her fingers on her knees.

"That's adorable," he said once he recovered, grinning like mad. It was borderline incredible, Arturia realized, that even when he tried to be nice he came off as condescending.

"And who do you support?" Arturia asked, shifting the focus back to him.

"Arsenal," Gilgamesh replied.

"I would've guessed Chelsea," she commented. He frowned, appearing offended.

"I didn't think you had such a low opinion of me," he said. That got a chuckle out of her, and then she froze and cursed her body's betrayal. Gilgamesh smirked.

"Well, why Arsenal? You don't sound like a North Londoner," Arturia said, eager to distract him from her lapse.

"Oh, definitely not. Think south. Far more south. Anyway, whether winning or imploding, Arsenal manage to do things with an entertaining style and flair. I appreciate that. Besides, there are three certainties in life. Death, taxes, and Arsenal finishing above Spurs," he said. Gilgamesh was on a roll, and she had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep her face composed.

"If we're narrowing it to the Premier League, I must confess I have a soft spot for Leicester City," she said.

"Ah, well, everyone loves an underdog." He reclined his seat. "Did you know that at one point, they had a five thousand in one chance of winning the league? To put it in perspective, there's a five thousand in one chance that Elvis is still alive. If one bettor hadn't been such a coward and taken a settlement, he would've won two hundred and fifty thousand euros. It's a goddamn miracle."

She could've been irritated by the fact that he was focusing on money in a scenario as marvelous as Leicester's feat, a rare tale of heart and grit prevailing in the modern game, and yet she wasn't. Maybe she was more tired than she realized.

"Isn't it nice, how sports can bring people together?" It was a rhetorical question, and for quite a while neither spoke. It wasn't an uncomfortable quiet, though.

In fact, Arturia felt content. She should've cracked open her books, then, but she didn't feel like it. She should've stayed mad at Gilgamesh for the ridiculousness with Irisviel, as well, but she couldn't summon the energy.

She gazed at the ceiling of the limousine, and could sense his eyes on her. The silence thickened into something almost stifling, and Arturia found she was having a difficult time breathing evenly. It was as though a lead weight had settled on her chest. She tugged at her collar and tried to ignore the flush creeping along her neck.

"Go out with me," Gilgamesh said. She faced him, glowering. "Please."

The 'please' made Arturia hesitate. She considered him, and then said, "I don't know, is there anyone else your mother plans to try and marry you off to?"

"Not that I know of," he said. "At least, not in the vicinity. I don't understand why you're so reluctant, it's obvious you like me. Besides, we've technically been on two dates already."

"Technically," Arturia retorted, "everything you just uttered is a load of horseshit."

"Not cowshit?" Gilgamesh said, and although it took her a moment, she then rolled her eyes at the awful pun. "If this isn't a date right now, and the night at the bar isn't considered a date, then what are they?"

"Work," she snapped.

"You still haven't given me a straight answer," he pressed her, a smug grin plastered on his face. Exasperated, Arturia blew a strand of hair out of her face.

"I don't have time for dates. I have an exam on Monday I need to study for." Keith wasn't the only one taking history of the arts. "And when I'm not studying, I'm attending classes, and when I'm not attending classes, I'm working at the bar. Or here, if Irisviel requires my services."

"Well, what if I helped you study?" he suggested. Arturia blinked. "I'm very intelligent, in case you haven't figured that out yet. We can get coffee. It'll be fun."

She scrutinized Gilgamesh, and he adopted an earnest expression. Arturia couldn't help but think she was making a terrible decision, influenced more by her hormones than anything logical. But, while stated in that obnoxious manner of his, Gilgamesh was correct that he was quite smart. She'd have to be a fool not to notice. If she could get him to focus, he might actually be a big help. If. _If_.

"Fine," she said. Gilgamesh grinned, looking victorious.

Arturia couldn't get rid of the voice nagging her in the back of her head, a voice that sounded like Siduri's, informing her she'd just made a horrible mistake.


	3. Coffee Shop Blues

_"I have the simplest tastes. I am always satisfied with the best."_

Arturia stood in front of the coffee shop Gilgamesh had picked out for their study da – _session_. Hands in the pockets of her warm winter coat, she took a deep breath and steeled her courage. Everything would be fine. They'd study and then go their separate ways and she'd ace her exam tomorrow.

Quelling the test anxiety rising within her, Arturia exhaled, and watched her breath billow out as a pale cloud. There was a chill breeze that ruffled her hair with cool, playful hands, and she buried her nose in the dark blue scarf draped around her neck. She entered the shop at a brisk pace, accompanied by the bright chime of the doorbell. Arturia surveyed her surroundings and found the café to be rather quaint; cozy and painted various shades of earthen tones, the rich scent of coffee filled the air.

A warm fire crackled in the hearth, and a pair of older men played checkers in the corner. Gilgamesh hadn't arrived yet, not that Arturia was surprised. She was early, and besides, punctuality didn't seem to be a priority of his. The barista was a nice young man, and she bought a large cup of black coffee from him before taking off her coat and scarf and hanging them up on the coatrack.

Arturia sat on the couch by the entrance, slinging her bookbag onto the table. She dumped out several thick tomes as well as her notes, organizing them on the coffee table in order of importance. Dissatisfied, Arturia redid them in alphabetical order – then from the thickest book to the thinnest.

When the door opened, Arturia was half finished with her hot beverage and thumbing through her color coded flash cards, ushering in both a cold wind and a load of hot air. Gilgamesh locked eyes with her and grinned, sauntering to her side.

He looked, and Arturia was pleasantly surprised by this fact, normal, dressed in a black suit and matching pants, with a simple white shirt underneath. He still wore those large gold earrings of his, and his shirt was unbuttoned to the point of indecency, but she supposed she couldn't expect miracles. Gilgamesh plopped down next to Arturia on the couch, throwing one arm over her shoulder, so casual it took her a full second to realize what just happened.

"You didn't wait for me to buy you your drink? How rude." Gilgamesh laughed, as if amused by his own 'joke', while Arturia tried to decide whether or not to move away from his embrace. She didn't _not_ want the physical contact. Maybe? Maybe. She forced her muscles to slacken, one at a time, and adjust to the warm, comforting sensation of another person's touch. Gilgamesh smelled like a vineyard, and she wondered what cologne he used. Something stupid expensive, in all likelihood. "You look nice."

Arturia blinked. She shot Gilgamesh a suspicious expression. Was he mocking her? She'd worn a modest long sleeve blouse and blue slacks with the specific intention of communicating her expectations on how the _session_ would proceed in a concise, nonverbal manner. Gilgamesh was unreadable, a smirking mask.

"Well, it's no leopard print," she said snidely. He twitched, startled, surprise flickering across his face. Then it was gone.

"I like that jacket more than most people," Gilgamesh said. "You're one of the exceptions, of course."

Arturia snorted and brushed aside her bangs. She retorted, "You looked like a pimp."

"I didn't." But Gilgamesh was frowning now. "Did I?"

"If you have to ask…?" Arturia trailed off, and his eyes narrowed. Then he laughed. His thumb began to rub a small, lazy circle on her back, and she bit her lip. It felt good. The light, gentle touch both relaxed her and caused her stomach to perform backflips.

"If I had to be involved in the sex trade, I'd rather be a gigolo, I think," he declared. Thankful for the distraction, Arturia glanced at the men playing checkers. If they were aware of the conversation they showed no outward sign. Hopefully they were deaf, or very much hard of hearing.

"Why am I not surprised?" she asked. Gilgamesh seemed to be enjoying himself quite a lot, and at the rate he was going, he would dislocate his lower jaw.

"My hooker name would be Goldie," he said. "And they would call me King of Prostitutes."

"You can't be serious." Now Arturia was smiling, too, at the ridiculous image his words conjured in her head. She leaned against him, and could feel his toned bicep through both their clothes. Suddenly her palms were clammy again. Gilgamesh looked delighted.

"I'm always serious, Arturia." His grave tone was ruined by the mischievous glint in his eye and the broad grin slapped across his face. "And what about you?"

"What about me?" she asked, tone dry.

"Well, we've just established what I'd be doing if I didn't have large quantities of money. If you were in my shoes, what would you do with more wealth than sense?" Gilgamesh tilted his head, studying her, his gaze intent. Arturia blinked and contemplated the question. She'd never given it much thought.

"I don't know. Travel, maybe?" she replied, uncertain. The idea didn't much appeal to her, didn't excite her at all, but it was something people with a lot of free time did. Right? She shifted, restless and uncomfortable by the turn their chat had taken, and busied herself with her coffee. Gilgamesh watched her, before jerking around with a scowl on his face.

"Where the hell is my drink?!" he shouted. Arturia jumped, and one of the old men twisted in his seat to check out the source of the disturbance. He made a face at the sight of Gilgamesh and then returned to his game. The barista stuck his head past the counter, the tips of his ears pink.

"Ah, sorry, sir. I didn't think you wanted to be disturbed." He disappeared, and she could her him bustling about the espresso machine. Gilgamesh muttered something incomprehensible under his breath.

"That was abominably rude." Arturia was indignant. She sympathized with the young man, knew just how frustrating some customers could be, with their unreasonable expectations. Damned if they did, damned if they didn't. Besides, this was a café for heaven's sake, not a bar, and he was a barista, not a waiter.

"He should know better," Gilgamesh said, sounding annoyed. "This place only exists at all thanks to my benevolence."

Arturia had a cutting remark on the tip of her tongue, but hesitated. So Gilgamesh owned this coffee shop too, then? She wondered if he bought out anything and everything that happened to catch his fancy. Collecting businesses like other people collected figurines. It was a disconcerting notion. The red faced barista hurried over to them, a steaming cup of coffee in his nervous grip. He didn't make eye contact with Gilgamesh when presenting him the drink.

"Would you stop that?" Arturia asked, beginning to get mad, as Gilgamesh accepted the coffee with a disdainful expression. She watched the poor lad hurry away.

"Stop what?" Gilgamesh asked, sniffing the drink, looking like he'd forgotten the incident already.

"Acting as though you're better than him," she said, trying to keep her voice low, even as her temper skyrocketed. He cocked an eyebrow and then grinned.

"Except that by every observable metric, I am." He sipped at his coffee.

Arturia stood, then, and stomped over to the counter, her shoulders stiff. The boy was cleaning a glass, his expression sheepish. She dug a twenty dollar bill out of her pocket and threw it in the tip jar.

"I apologize for my… _companion's_ behavior," she said, loud enough for Gilgamesh to hear. Blushing, the barista gave her an open mouthed look and averted his gaze.

"It's not a big deal," he mumbled.

Arturia nodded curtly, and then stormed back to where Gilgamesh was waiting. Remembering the original purpose for their _session_ , Arturia grabbed a chair on the return trip, dragging it across from him and sitting down. He pouted at her, stretching out on the couch, and she scowled.

"I have an exam tomorrow, if you're not going to help then leave," Arturia said.

A dark cloud passed across Gilgamesh's face. Then it was gone. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His eyes flickered to the books on the coffee table, forgotten until this point.

"And what is the topic of your exam?" he asked. Arturia took a deep breath and counted to ten. She was still riled over the previous incident.

"History of the arts." She flipped open a textbook. Gilgamesh scoffed.

"What a ridiculous name for a class. I can sum up the history of art in one sentence: people seeing how much they can steal from those before them without getting caught," he said.

"I don't think that's going to cut it for a multiple choice test," Arturia replied.

"Useless." Gilgamesh looked irritable, and gulped down his coffee.

"Well, you know what they say." In truth, Arturia agreed with Gilgamesh. She wouldn't have taken the course if it wasn't required. "All art is quite useless."

He chuckled, expression lighting up. "And quotation is a serviceable substitute for wit. You don't strike me as a connoisseur of the finer arts." She wasn't sure whether to take that as an insult or not, and frowned. At the same time, her anger was fading, and she grew intrigued by the new topic.

"Untrue. I appreciate things made with obvious skill and graft. The ceiling of the Sistine Chapel is as much a testament to human fortitude as it is a symbol of the renaissance." Arturia watched him flick through one of her books, pausing to admire the pictures of various period pieces throughout.

"Would you agree with the notion that art is only worthwhile if you suffer for your creation?" Gilgamesh asked.

"I... wouldn't go that far," she said. "But I suppose if you want to make something that will be remembered, some form of sacrifice is necessary. Otherwise it rings false."

"Like one of those saccharine holiday songs," Gilgamesh said helpfully.

"Quite." Arturia grimaced. They looked at each other. "This isn't what I'd describe as studying."

"No, it's far less boring," he agreed, and she snorted. "What's your major, anyway?"

"English," she said. Gilgamesh smirked into his cup.

"Amazing, isn't it, all the synonyms there are for unemployed?" He made an annoying slurping noise.

"Oh, shut up." Arturia glowered. "It's for my bachelor's degree. I plan on attending law school afterward."

"Hm." Gilgamesh considered her, brow furrowed as he peered over the lid of his drink. A tad self-conscious, Arturia handed him her flash cards.

"Studying," she reminded him. "Quiz me on terms."

"Oh, I suppose." Gilgamesh seemed put out, but snagged the cards without further complaint. The sun slid across the sky, and Arturia admitted to herself that having a study partner was rather nice.

...

"Aren't you freezing?" Arturia asked.

They'd left a few hours later, and Gilgamesh had decided to walk with her back to her apartment. It was only a few blocks away, but she'd still bundled up against the cold. Arturia stared as he drew his thin jacket tighter about his shoulders.

"Concerned?" Gilgamesh replied, smirk in place.

"For your sanity, perhaps," she said. He chuckled, although a shadow flickered in his eyes. Neither spoke for several minutes, and the low rumble of traffic provided an ambient backdrop.

It occurred to Arturia, then, that although Gilgamesh peppered her with questions every time they met, she hadn't asked him much of anything in return. For whatever unknown reason she felt compelled to rectify the fact. Arturia cast her mind about, seeking a suitable inquiry, and had a flash of inspiration from their earlier conversation.

"Gilgamesh." She cleared her throat and he looked at her. "What's your favorite work of art?"

"My favorite?" Gilgamesh repeated. Arturia nodded. His brow knitted together in thought, and a split second later he beamed. "Ratatouille."

Uncomprehending, she stared. Then it clicked and Arturia blinked. She said, "Wait, the animated movie? The one with the cooking rat?"

"That's the one." Gilgamesh smiled serenely. Arturia was quite surprised. She hadn't expected him chose a movie of all things, much less a recent family film.

"Why?" she asked, unable to resist.

"It's a story about rising above the filth presented to you by others, and instead crafting something beautiful. Why wouldn't it be my favorite?" He had a faraway look on his face. Arturia viewed him in a new, different light.

"I suppose I expected something more pretentious," she admitted, somewhat impressed. Although his response did have that condescending tenor that seemed to plague Gilgamesh. That she was adjusting to it might be a cause for concern.

"Perhaps, _War and Peace_?" he suggested, grinning.

"Yes. Along those lines." Arturia smiled back. This was pleasant. Truth be told, aside from the spat involving the barista (and recalling the incident caused her smile to vanish), the morning had been surprisingly enjoyable. "Do you like animation?"

"Oh, very much. To be an animator is to be a god, unbound by the laws of physics and the mundane. If a picture is worth a thousand words, then what of one that moves? Unlimited. I admit, I find Pixar to be grossly overrated, despite my adoration of Ratatouille. But they had heart, at least until being taken over by… _them_." Gilgamesh's tone started out whimsical, but morphed into something darker by the end.

"Them?" Arturia tried to keep her response neutral, although she had the overwhelming urge to laugh. If one were to spy upon Gilgamesh at that second, they would've thought he was discussing a matter of life and death.

" _Disney_." He stated the name like it was a curse. Arturia bit her lip. "It's not funny, Arturia, they are the equivalent of All the World's Evils, hidden behind a fake veneer of friendship and happiness! All they do is steal and corrupt the beautiful ideas of others, replacing it with soulless falsehoods that perpetuate empty, hollow promises – what they've done to Hans Christian Anderson's stories alone makes their sins unforgivable."

"Oh, come now," Arturia said. "That's a mild overreaction."

"And don't even get me started on their mandate for sequels, prequels, and remakes," Gilgamesh barreled on as if he hadn't heard her. "Maybe there is nothing new under the sun, but if an artist doesn't at least try to create new and original content, expressing their own ideals through their works, then who will?

"I tell you truly, there is nothing and no one more corporate than Disney. Where dreams come true – please! More like, where money is made. They have perfected the _art_ of the blockbuster. Give people a face and name they recognize, dazzle them with special effects, and then sit back and watch the ticket sales soar. Because the public are sheep, and as such we will be stuck with superhero shlock and Star Wars films every year until the day we die.

"Heroes' flaws are now ridiculous traits such as clumsy, or they are irredeemable monsters the narrative bends over backward to justify, or their flaws are glossed past with a few quips that a grade schooler would consider clever. I'd rather something be flawed and brilliant as opposed to generic and dull. But that wouldn't be _relatable_."

Gilgamesh sucked in a deep breath, and exhaled noisily. Arturia stared at him, a little amused. It was a minor relief to know that Gilgamesh had passions outside the realm of the physical. She'd begun to wonder if anything truly phased him.

"I suppose I always thought of them as entertainment. Their movies are one's to watch after a twelve hour shift, when you're tired and just want to relax with something simple and fun," she said.

"Escapism," Gilgamesh said derisively. "The resort of cowards."

His snide retort sparked Arturia's temper. She scowled at Gilgamesh.

"That's easy for you to say. I doubt you've ever had to worry about putting food on the table, or paying off bills, or being treated poorly at work, in your entire life. If someone finds joy in shlock, a reprieve from the hardships of the world, who are you to degrade them? What right do you have to judge others, you, who was born with a golden spoon in your mouth, and who likely will die with one as well?" she demanded.

The atmosphere grew tense. Gilgamesh looked shocked, but only for a moment. His features smoothed over and he smirked.

"It's a self-appointed position," he said. Arturia shook her head. "You like such movies, then?"

"No, I don't care much for film in general," she muttered.

Arturia always felt existential when watching something – the nagging sense that these were characters. That they didn't exist, and yet there they were on the screen, with defined, individual emotions and motivations. She didn't quite understand it herself, didn't know how to express the sensation. Thus she tended not to elaborate on her feelings, as they resulted in odd looks from other people.

"You're so cute," Gilgamesh said fondly, and she glared daggers at him. He grinned back, and her stomach did another one of those confounding summersaults.

Arturia didn't understand why she was attracted to this man. Well, aside from the obvious factor. Still, she should've been repelled by his 'mightier-than-thou' attitude. Maybe it was because she found Gilgamesh's bluntness refreshing? She'd never met anyone so pointed before now.

They talked a few minutes longer, about idle, unimportant things. Well, Gilgamesh did most of the conversing. Arturia listened, letting his mellifluous voice wash over her, and inserted her own opinion when the topic demanded it.

"This is my apartment." Arturia came to a halt. The unassuming, squat building sat before them. She wondered if Keith was home.

"Ah, parting is such sweet sorrow," Gilgamesh said. They faced each other. Swallowing, Arturia tried to think of a suitable reply. Luckily, or not, he seized the initiative, and Gilgamesh reached out to touch her. His warm fingers slid under her jaw, tilting her gaze toward his. "Do I get a goodbye kiss as reward for being on my best behavior?"

Arturia turned bright red, and her breath hitched. His hand was so _soft_ , and yet firm, like steel coated velvet. For a brief second in which her common sense deserted her, Arturia considered complying, because his lips were probably just as soft as his hands, if not more so. Then she returned to her senses and ripped out of Gilgamesh's grip.

"What the hell is your angle?" she asked, her voice going up an octave.

"Angle?" Gilgamesh asked, puzzled. Arturia peered beyond him, down the street, scanning the surroundings for any suspicious activity. The alley appeared innocent and empty. _Appeared_ , that was the key word. There was a high likelihood that a group of malcontents were lurking, unseen, around the corner.

"Is this – is this some sort of bet that you made with your mates or some similar nonsense? What, another notch on your belt, fuck the chaste virgin and prove your masculinity to everyone?!" Her words spilled forth, a nonsensical verbal diatribe. Gilgamesh laughed.

"And then you'll take off your glasses and I'll realize I loved you all along, just in time for the dance?" he teased.

"No!" Arturia began to feel foolish, but it was too late to back down now. "I'm not some, some slot machine, Gilgamesh. Don't think you can insert a specific number of, of, of niceness tokens and then I'll just spread my damn legs for you!"

"There's an image." Gilgamesh continued to chuckle, blatant amusement underlining his reply. Oh, he could be _so_ annoying. "But, Arturia, I don't think you're interested in me because I'm nice."

She couldn't decide if she wanted to punch him or kiss him, then. So Arturia settled for folding her arms and looking grumpy. Gilgamesh gazed at her with lidded eyes.

"I was supposed to be on a plane ride back home… yesterday," he said. Arturia started. That was unexpected. "I changed my plans, however. It's far too interesting here. Dealing with my family is such a dull affair, anyway."

"Do you have a point?" she asked through gritted teeth.

"For the moment, I intend to stick around indefinitely," Gilgamesh said, smirking. "If you find yourself feeling lonely, give me a call. I'll always make time for you, Arturia."

And _dammit_ , she was blushing again. Trying to keep her dignity intact, Arturia jutted her chin out and did her best to remain impassive. She waited for him to saunter away, making a cool exit, as his words had a ring of finality to them, but Gilgamesh just stood there. The chill breeze mussed his hair.

"Do you need something else?" she finally asked. He made a bizarre face and checked his phone.

"My ride will be here in about, oh, ten minutes," Gilgamesh said. She focused, and could _see_ the goosebumps on the flesh of his exposed neck. Proud fool. Not that she was much better. Glowering, Arturia turned and pulled out her keys. They jingled as she unlocked the door to the complex's lobby. She held it open for Gilgamesh and made a short, sharp gesture.

"Well, wait inside, then," Arturia said.

"What a perfect gentleman." Gilgamesh laughed under his breath, and then did as he was bid. Arturia followed after him, and felt strangely content with the world.


	4. Kriegspiel

_"Nowadays most people die of a sort of creeping common sense, and discover when it is too late that the only things one never regrets are one's mistakes."_

Arturia watched Gilgamesh as he stood in front of the vending machine. His hand was pressed on the glass, his back facing her. She could've gone upstairs to her apartment, but that would've been rude. Arturia sat on a hard bench in the lobby and wondered what he was thinking about.

Ten minutes.

Strange, that they'd spent hours together, and it had flown by, but ten minutes seemed to stretch on forever. The silence felt like a challenge. Gilgamesh had thrown down the gauntlet, and was awaiting her response. It was one of the few instances in her life where she wasn't sure what course of action to take. She needed more information.

"Art?" called a new, yet familiar voice. Keith stood in the stairwell. He wore an old, faded red jersey and looked at her with a strange mixture of concern and curiosity. His gaze shifted to Gilgamesh and then returned to her. "What's going on?"

Arturia opened her mouth to respond and then paused. Gilgamesh was now staring at Keith with a blank expression and folded arms. Even so, she could feel the anger rolling off him in waves.

"It's nothing. I'll be up in a few minutes," Arturia said, trying to be subtle with her request. However, Keith and subtlety didn't exactly gel. He stayed where he was, and she sighed. "Keith, this is Gilgamesh. Gilgamesh, this is my brother, Keith."

Gilgamesh's expression didn't change, but the furious aura vanished. He dropped his arms to his sides. Men. Although she supposed she couldn't blame him in this case. She probably would've jumped to a similar conclusion if the situation was reversed. There was a pregnant pause.

"Uh, nice to meet you." Keith scratched the back of his head. A gorgeous luxury sedan pulled up outside. Gilgamesh smirked and ended the bizarre standoff.

"It looks like my ride has arrived. Arturia," he said. She nodded her farewell. Gilgamesh then proceeded to ignore Keith, and strode out the complex. As the door swung shut her brother shot Arturia an incredulous look.

"Who the hell was that? He seems like a massive cunt," Keith said, and Arturia responded with a flat stare.

"Shut up, Keith." She shouldered past him. Keith trailed behind her.

"Girls don't really dig guys like that, do they?" he asked.

"Some do," Arturia replied.

"Why, though? I don't get it. What does he have that manly men like myself don't?" Keith sounded disgruntled. They walked down the hallway toward apartment number seven, along threadbare carpet and past faded wallpaper.

"Charisma," Arturia said. Then, as an afterthought, "And proper hygiene."

Keith didn't respond, which clued her into the fact that a nefarious plot was underfoot. Once inside the apartment, after the door shut with an audible click, something heavy and smelling of stale chips slammed into Arturia's midriff.

All the air rushed out of her lungs. Arturia had already begun to twist in anticipation of her brother's sneak attack, but collapsed under his weight regardless. The two scuffled for several frantic, furious seconds, red faced and spitting curses. It was a familiar routine that brought them both comfort, and they knew how far to push without hurting one another. Usually.

Grunting, Arturia heaved and pinned Keith to the ground. He squirmed under her iron grip. Then he went limp, and for a time the sound of heavy breathing was all that could be heard.

"You cheated," Keith said.

"Take that back." Arturia felt offended.

"I'm, like, twice your size. There's no way you're stronger than me. It's pretty basic biology." He frowned at her. She prodded his stomach.

"You have an impressive beer gut," Arturia observed. Keith began to wriggle, attempting another bid for freedom. His face turned a fascinating shade of puce. In fact, she worried that he might pop a blood vessel at the rate he was going.

"Most would consider that a college badge of honor – will you get the hell off me already?" Keith asked irritably.

"I don't know, are you going to try anything cheap?" Arturia retorted.

"It's called an ambush. Tactics. Maybe one day you'll understand such refined stratagem, rather than brute forcing everything." He surrendered again.

Arturia rolled her eyes. Typical. Trust Keith to try put a spin on all their fights and arguments. He had a knack at making it feel like she'd lost even when she won.

Arturia flopped off Keith. They both laid on their backs and stared at the ceiling. The prolonged silence was comfortable. Despite being roommates and siblings, sometimes it seemed they never saw each other for more than a few minutes each day. The rough housing almost felt nostalgic.

"Do you like him?" Keith asked, out of nowhere. Arturia glanced at her brother.

"Who?" Of course she knew who. But she wasn't inclined to have this particular conversation.

"Don't play dumb. Goldilocks." He didn't notice Arturia working hard to keep a straight face. "You were doing that thing you do, when you're around someone you have a crush on."

"What? What thing? And no I wasn't," she insisted.

"You know. The thing." Keith gesticulated wildly, and then looked at her with a satisfied expression. "And you totally were. I've become fluent in reading brick walls."

"Ah, yes, the language of my people." Arturia shifted onto her stomach and sent him a withering glare. She could feel the rough carpet pressed against her cheek and made a mental note to vacuum later. Keith snorted and faced her as well.

"So? Do you like him?" he asked again, resting his head in the crook of his elbow. Rolling her eyes, Arturia contemplated the question before dismissing it.

"What are you, six? We're just fr..." She stopped. Were they friends? No. No, definitely not. "We're co... part... work... acquaintances."

Keith and Arturia stared at each other.

"Yeah, sure," he said, his tone skeptical. "You can be so weird sometimes."

Arturia sighed but didn't bother arguing with him.

...

Arturia left for work earlier than usual. The oak door to the office felt solid as she knocked. Investigation, start. Siduri called for her to come in, and the door swung open on smooth, well-oiled hinges.

When Arturia had her own office, she decided it would look similar to Siduri's. Minimalistic and modern, the pinnacle of form and function. Siduri watched as Arturia took a seat on the other side of the mahogany desk.

"And to what do I owe the unexpected pleasure?" Siduri asked. Arturia summoned her courage, cleared her throat, and looked her boss straight in the eyes.

"I have some questions about Gilgamesh," she said. Grimacing, Siduri pinched the bridge of her nose.

"You didn't sleep with him, did you?" she asked. Flustered by the blunt inquiry, Arturia just shook her head. "Oh, that's something at least. Has he been bothering you?"

"No," Arturia assured her, a bit defensive, after taking a moment to breathe and relax. "I just – you seemed to know him well. I apologize for being unprofessional."

Siduri waved a negligent hand and said, "It's fine. I met Gilgamesh back when I still lived in Samawah. He helped me move to America. In a way, I guess I kind of owe him. Or is it the other way around?"

A melancholic expression crossed her face. Arturia blinked. She knew the dark haired woman before her hailed from the Middle East, but it wasn't something Siduri talked about often, if at all. And Arturia wasn't the type to pry into the affairs of others. But she had to admit that when it came to Gilgamesh, she was curious enough to make an exception.

"What was Gilgamesh doing there?" Arturia asked. She was surprised when Siduri began to chuckle.

"He didn't tell you? Well. Gilgamesh is what a lot of westerners would colloquially refer to as an oil sheik," she said. "His family owns some of the biggest refineries in Iraq."

Arturia needed a second for that to sink in. Her brow furrowed. More money than sense, Gilgamesh had told her. It seemed plausible, and yet it was strange to conceptualize. Although she was too polite to admit it out loud, Siduri must've read her thoughts.

"He looks European, that's what you're thinking?" she asked. Slightly embarrassed, Arturia nodded. "Don't worry, it's a common mistake. And technically there's some truth to it. His mother's Russian. Gift from the Soviets, if you will. Apparently he's the only one of his siblings who looks like that. I'm sure Gilgamesh doesn't mind, especially when using airports."

Arturia frowned a little and said, "I see."

"Yeah, well, like I said, I'd recommend steering clear of him if I were you." Siduri tented her fingers together and peered down at Arturia, the epitome of stern authority.

"Why?" Arturia asked, getting to the crux of the matter.

"Because Gilgamesh is a rich businessman. He's very good at getting what he wants. And he knows how to make people feel like they're..." Siduri lost focus. Then clarity removed the clouds in her eyes. "Worthwhile. The problem is that once Gilgamesh gets bored – and he always gets bored – he moves on, independent of the other person's feelings. Because ultimately, Gilgamesh only cares about himself. I've seen a lot of woman try to change him. They think they're the one, for them it'll be different, and then in the end they just hurt themselves. You're an adult and you're quite mature, but, well, I like you, Arturia. I'd hate to see anything like that happen to you."

Mulling over her boss's words, Arturia squared her shoulders. It was what she'd more or less suspected, after spending time with Gilgamesh. Hearing Siduri confirm it almost made her feel disappointed. Part of her had hoped to be off base.

"Thank you. I appreciate you taking the time out of your day to talk with me about this," she said.

"Don't worry about it. I meant it when I said I liked you. You're the best damn worker I've ever had." Siduri leaned back and smiled faintly. "I'll even take you out and buy you a drink sometime, if you want."

"I'm glad to hear it." Arturia mirrored the smile, her response wry. "It's a date, then."

Siduri laughed and they exchanged pleasantries. Then the phone rang and Arturia used the opportunity to excuse herself. She changed into her uniform and waited in the car for her shift to start, as she still had some time on hand.

Taking out her phone, Arturia stared at Gilgamesh's number and tried to figure out what to do next. The answer seemed obvious, but she found herself reluctant at the thought of cutting ties with the man. She enjoyed his company, even if he could be infuriating when the occasion called for it. Still, Arturia knew what needed to happen. Nothing good would come out of the... whatever it was she had with Gilgamesh. That much was certain. She had more important things to worry about in life.

Arturia decided to inform Gilgamesh of her decision when he showed up that night. The thought made her feel a bit sad. However, she had enough on her plate without balancing a potential relationship with a flighty metrosexual on top of that, a relationship that was almost guaranteed to end in failure. And given that the only other relationship she'd ever had, had ended poorly, she wasn't eager for a repeat.

While waiting, Arturia concocted a plan. She'd explain to Gilgamesh, in logical detail, all the reasons that a continued dalliance between them was a poor idea. His attention was flattering, but it just wasn't going to work between them. Then Arturia would maybe take a picture, because she had a feeling Gilgamesh wasn't used to rejection, and she wanted to remember the look on his face. For the sake of posterity.

Convinced she was making the correct decision, Arturia got out of the car, straightened her clothes, and then marched back into the bar. With a plan in place, she felt confident and prepared to handle whatever Gilgamesh threw at her.

Her shift progressed without much incident. She kept an eye on the corner that Gilgamesh had more or less claimed, but it remained vacant. The night came to a close and he never showed. Once again, he'd surprised her. It figured that he would manage to ruin her plan by doing nothing.

Perhaps something had come up. Arturia supposed she could call him and just tell him to get another plane ticket, but the action struck her as cowardly and her pride rejected it on principal. She wanted to talk to him face-to-face.

As Arturia cleaned the tables, she decided she'd wait until whenever Gilgamesh decided to come around. The plan could then be enacted, swiftly and efficiently. And if he didn't, then there was always the chance that he'd changed his mind or lost interest. Which would be for the best, anyway.

Arturia scowled and scrubbed at a stubborn bit of dirt so hard her knuckles turned white.

...

The low murmur of the radio droned on in the background. Arturia kept her hands in the ten and two position on the steering wheel, watching the countryside slide past. It was a bright and sunny enough day that she'd worn sunglasses, and felt quite satisfied with the decision.

Irisviel sat in the back seat, content to hum along to the music and stare out the window. They were going to visit a family friend of the von Einzbern's for lunch, and of course said friend lived over two hours away. Although the drive was long, most of it was along an open, empty stretch of road. It was a tranquil experience.

Arturia more than welcomed the distraction. It had been a hectic week, and she recently received an email from her history of the arts professor, requesting a meeting. She'd been confidant upon finishing her exam, but the sight of the message induced instantaneous paranoia. The fact that she knew Professor Merle well (a little too well for her taste), coupled with his position as her advisor, somewhat alleviated her concerns. Still, she couldn't help but worry.

Then there was the situation with Gilgamesh, who she hadn't seen since they'd studied together. She mostly kept busy and didn't think about it too much, but Arturia would often catch herself turning toward the entrance of the bar every time it opened in the hopes that it would be him.

The lack of closure was irritating. She was amazed that Gilgamesh managed to annoy her even when he wasn't present. Arturia had even considered calling him and demanding an explanation, but then he would _win_ , somehow, and that was unacceptable.

"... Saber?"

Blinking, Arturia realized that Irisviel had been trying with little success to get her attention. She shifted, inwardly chiding herself over her lack of focus.

"Ah, I apologize. I was distracted," Arturia said. In the rearview mirror, she watched Irisviel smile.

"Oh, don't be sorry. I just thought you might be interested to know that I saw Gilgamesh the other day," Irisviel said, a hint of mischief sparkling in her red eyes. Arturia let that sink in. So Gilgamesh was still around, then.

"I see," she said, as neutral as possible.

"He asked me about you." Irisviel seemed to be trying not to laugh. "I think he likes you."

"I couldn't tell," Arturia muttered, tightening her grip.

Gilgamesh was looking into her behind her back? She wanted to get mad, but then remembered she'd done almost the exact same thing. Arturia huffed under her breath. This time Irisviel did laugh out loud, hands clapping together in delight.

"Oh, Saber, you can be so droll sometimes. Do you like him, too? I think you would make an adorable couple." She brimmed with infectious enthusiasm, straightening in her seat.

"Irisviel," Arturia protested, "this is hardly what I would consider appropriate conversation."

Her pale haired charge pouted and said, "That's not fair. You get to veto boy talks, but I have to sit through seatbelt lectures whenever we go outside the city limits?"

"I fail to how such lectures are inappropriate." But Arturia could feel the corners of her lips twitching upward. "Your safety is my top priority."

"And yet, just a few minutes ago, there you were. Daydreaming," Irisviel countered with a triumphant grin. Arturia mulled this point over.

"True. I suppose we should watch driver's safety videos together in penance," she said, and changed lanes to pass someone.

"Even the one with the crash dummy?" Irisviel asked, emitting a mock gasp.

" _Especially_ the one with the crash dummy," Arturia replied, deadpan, and Irisviel became overwhelmed with a fit of giggles.

The prior subject was then dropped, and the duo chatted about inane matters. Small talk never came easily to Arturia, but Irisviel was an excellent conversationalist. Her knack for getting someone as reticent as Arturia to open up was quite remarkable. But at the same time, Artuira found herself obsessing over Irisviel's casual admission regarding Gilgamesh.

Was he waiting for her to make the next move? Arturia felt like they were playing a long distance form of chess, except she had no idea what the rules were. It rankled that Gilgamesh seemed to be the one in control of the situation, while Arturia floundered along several steps behind him. She frowned, drumming her fingers on the wheel.

"Irisviel, what's your opinion of Gilgamesh?" she blurted out. Her friend looked surprised and then thoughtful.

"He's quite charming, yet blunt. And he holds himself in high regard. It's an altogether odd combination. He doesn't seem like a bad man, though." Irisviel hesitated. "Saber, Gilgamesh hasn't been bothering you, has he?" The question echoed Siduri's from a week ago, and Arturia once again felt the absurd need to defend Gilgamesh's honor.

"No," she said. "Not at all. I – I do find him attractive, and when we speak I feel engaged in a way that I've never, really..." Arturia trailed off, growing warm. She couldn't help but recall some of the dreams she'd had throughout the week, in distinct, uncomfortable clarity, which made her even more flustered. Irisviel's expression softened.

"But?" she asked, coaxing. There was a brief silence as Arturia tried to best articulate her feelings.

"Gilgamesh is more interested in the short term than the long term. And there's nothing wrong with that, necessarily, except that's not who I am. I like Gilgamesh, I just don't see anything between us ever... lasting." Arturia felt indebted to Irisviel, then; it was nice to get her thoughts off her chest and out in the open.

"I see." She turned contemplative. "You're a very sensible person, Saber. I must admit I'm rather jealous."

"What are you thinking?" Arturia asked, a flicker of curiosity sparking to life.

"That you're a lot like Kiritsugu." Irisviel seemed embarrassed and self-conscious all of a sudden. Arturia wasn't thrilled by the comparison, but appreciated the sentiment and kept quiet. "I'm not very good at giving advice. Especially about relationships. You're a grown woman and you should do what you think is best. But, well, I guess what I'm trying to say is, maybe, sometimes it's okay to do something, even if you know it's going to end. Nothing can change the fact that it happened, and it made you really happy. Does... does that make sense?"

Arturia could feel Irisviel's eyes on the back of her head. Arturia stared at the road and considered the new perspective.

"Don't cry that it ended, smile because it happened?" she asked. Irisviel brightened.

"Yes. Exactly."


	5. A Bust to the King's Gambit

"The very essence of romance is uncertainty."

Gilgamesh stared at his cell phone. It lay atop the nightstand and did nothing.

He sighed. The television was on in the background, ambient noise that he'd tune into from time to time before losing interest. Gilgamesh rolled onto his stomach. Then he buried his head into his pillow and let out a muffled noise of frustration.

Over a week later, and Arturia still hadn't called him back.

This perplexed Gilgamesh. He didn't understand what went wrong. Certainly the issue couldn't lie with him, could it? During their date he'd been witty and suave almost to a fault.

It was clear Arturia found him charming. The only minor hiccup occurred because Gilgamesh reprimanded that slack-jawed worker for showcasing a complete and utter dearth of customer service qualities. Even then, the incident was soon forgotten.

He supposed he'd also been rather hostile toward Arturia's lackwit brother. The surge of animosity had taken even Gilgamesh himself by surprise (not eased in the slightest by Keith's gormless expression). He was not one to get jealous. From married women to single women to everything in between, his relationships were open-ended and unrestricted. This was due the fact that Gilgamesh just flat out didn't care.

He couldn't quite put his finger on what made Arturia different. As far as he could tell, he just genuinely liked her. She was beautiful, but Gilgamesh had slept with plenty of beautiful people before. Arturia carried herself with a quiet poise and understated confidence that he found attractive. More than that, she had conviction.

True, testing her resolve interested him. Gilgamesh wanted to see if she could resist the urge to yield, hold steadfast to her ideals in the face of temptation. And yet, at the same time, he didn't want that.

A tiny part of Gilgamesh, a minuscule portion that wasn't quite so jaded as all the rest, wished to believe there existed people in the world who did things for reasons beyond the realms of self-gratification and personal benefit. Perhaps he hadn't been jealous of Keith so much as upset by the implication of Keith, because it meant Arturia might not have been who Gilgamesh thought she was.

No, Gilgamesh mused, he'd definitely been at least a little jealous. Not to mention he hated being wrong in any capacity.

The phone rang.

Gilgamesh hurled himself to the bedside and seized his cell. Once he caught sight of the caller, however, his features darkened. Gilgamesh answered, sporting a look of immense distaste all the while.

"Whatever it is, I'm not interested, Alexander," he said. Then he grimaced and held the phone away from his ear, as Alexander's booming laugh threatened to blow out both his speaker and his eardrum.

"Hello to you too, Blondie! And that's no fair, you didn't even give me a chance to speak," said Alexander.

Even as a disembodied voice, it was impossible not to picture a larger than life figure on the other end of the line, brimming with vim and vigor. Gilgamesh shifted onto his back and groaned, pressing the heel of his palm against the socket of his eye.

"You have no standards, Alexander. Not everyone cares to swallow what any sad sack off the street with a sob story tries to sell them."

"Your alliteration is rather on point today," Alexander said after a moment, full of good humor. "But what can I say? I like giving people a chance to make something of themselves."

Gilgamesh ignored the underlying barb and considered hanging up. His patience fast wore thin, and he wasn't in the mood to deal with Alexander's misguided intentions. But the other man was nothing if not persistent, and he would no doubt nag Gilgamesh throughout the week if ignored. He said, "Well, what is it, then?"

"The British magnate, Sir Arthur Pendragon, is dead." Alexander spoke as though his statement was one of grave importance.

"That's nice," Gilgamesh said absentmindedly, reminded of Arturia. He released a forlorn sigh.

Until now, he hadn't quite made the connection – that her name was a feminized version of the popular male form. Perhaps she was christened after her father. Not for the first time, Gilgamesh marveled at the hubris parents often bestowed upon their children like an unwanted present. Then again, he thought Arturia was a beautiful name. It rolled off the tongue nicely.

"Come now, Gilgamesh! Show some respect for the deceased. Besides, you met Sir Arthur at a business conference in London. We went together. As I recall, you hated him the least out of everyone there," Alexander said.

"I endeavor to be drunk at such meetings, so that I don't have to remember them," Gilgamesh replied. "Will you get to it already?"

"I wanted to know if you planned to go to the funeral. I got invited, so I imagine you did too." Alexander seemed a bit subdued in the face of Gilgamesh's blatant apathy.

"What? Is this a funeral or a less morbid version of a wedding? I don't give a damn about some dead rich man. Chances are he died as he lived; snorting cocaine and sleeping with hookers behind his wife's back," Gilgamesh said.

"His wife passed away years ago," Alexander interjected, "and he has no children."

"Even worse! No doubt all of his various family – thrice removed – will come crawling out of the woodwork to pick the carcass clean. No, thank you. Now leave me be, I'm busy pining." Gilgamesh's voice rose in a fit of pique.

"Oh? Not over me, I hope!" Alexander chuckled, wise enough to drop the previous topic.

"Don't be absurd." Gilgamesh stared at the canopy of his bed. Bright red in color and featuring silken drapes, he contemplated the possibility of redecorating. Bluish green and fashioned from satin. That could look splendid if Gilgamesh found a shade matching his vision.

"Eh, there's no need for that. So, who's the lucky lover?" Alexander knew him well. Too well, maybe. The easiest way to mollify Gilgamesh was achieved by getting him talking about his favorite subject: himself and things involving himself.

"Her name's Arturia, and she's wonderful." He propped the cell phone on his duvet, having grown weary of holding it. Besides, Gilgamesh could hear the other man more than well enough. "I met her at the bar a few weeks ago. She's proven to be an endless source of entertainment."

"I see." Alexander's voice carried a hint of reproach. Aggravated by the unspoken implication, Gilgamesh frowned.

"There's more to it than that, not that I need to justify myself. Arturia is a woman of... good character." He congratulated himself on his little inside joke. Lack of context meant Alexander wouldn't get it, but it was the thought that counted.

"Really?" Alexander sounded startled. "That's different."

"She's different." He grew misty eyed. He wondered if Arturia had thought about him at all in the past week.

"Huh," Alexander said. Then he made an odd noise. "Wait. I thought you were going to propose to the von Einzbern heir?"

Gilgamesh needed a second to connect the dots. Right. The girl his mother tried to set him up with. What was her name? No matter. The one who wanted to spend their date at the mall of all places. Odd. He'd grilled her the other day in an effort to learn more about Arturia, but nothing she told him was anything he hadn't already deduced on his own.

He'd also informed her that while she was nice enough, she just wasn't his type. She'd had taken it on the chin, although he had no doubt she was secretly heartbroken over his disinterest. Or she would be, once the thrill of forbidden romance wore off.

"I changed my mind," Gilgamesh said. "My days as a free spirited bachelor will continue for the unforeseeable future. But enough about dodged bullets."

Alexander chuckled and said, "Fair enough. So you think this one might last, then?"

"You sound like my mother, Alexander," Gilgamesh complained. His mood soured. "This obsession people have with relationships lasting will forever baffle me. But even so, it would have to start first. We exchanged numbers and everything, yet Arturia still hasn't called me back."

"She's probably just playing hard to get," Alexander said after a brief pause.

"No, that's not her style." Gilgamesh dismissed the notion without a second thought.

Arturia was far too upfront for such mind games. It might be his favorite thing about her. Or one of his favorite things. Arturia was blunt, but in an endearing and almost charismatic manner. She harbored a gravitational pull, an inner force that could move mountains, if that was what it took to accomplish her goals.

"Then perhaps she's just not interested," Alexander suggested.

"No. Impossible." Gilgamesh hesitated. "You think that might be the case?"

The problem was that he felt unsure. While Gilgamesh prided himself on his ability to read others, Arturia was just opaque enough to leave him uncertain. It was an alien experience for him.

He'd been confident following their date, but with each passing day the doubt niggling at the back of his mind grew a little stronger. On multiple occasions Gilgamesh considered breaking down and going to the bar to see her, but then he would lose, and that was unacceptable. Arturia had to come to him, he'd already made his affections more than obvious.

"Well, I'll be," Alexander rumbled, amazed to an insulting degree. "You really do like this girl."

"Arturia is not a girl, but a woman," Gilgamesh snapped. "And, well, yes. I suppose I do. She… makes me feel thirteen again."

"That sounds awful." He could hear the shudder in Alexander's response.

"Oh, indeed. It's dreadful, and yet I love it." Gilgamesh smirked. The other man roared with laughter.

"I must say, it's equally refreshing to see someone keeping you guessing for once," he said once he recovered. "Your tendency to fall back on absolutes might be your most unattractive quality."

"Please." Gilgamesh scoffed. "I have no unattractive qualities. Besides, there's a saying in football that's applicable to life as well; it's a simple game that morons make far more complex than necessary."

"Roughly paraphrased, I imagine. And that's a slippery slope to tread." Alexander's tone was still friendly, although there was a challenge to it. "It might work for you, because you're smart enough and perceptive enough to make it work, but most people aren't like that. All it takes is one error of judgment for things to go wrong."

"I don't live my life intending to set an example for other people." Gilgamesh felt waspish. This was a discussion they'd had before, and it was just as tiresome now as it had been in the past.

"That's where you and I differ, I think," Alexander observed. "Our wealth and stature have placed us on pedestals, whether we like it or not. People equate us with success and seek to emulate us. Sometimes better, and sometimes... worse. We have the power to make a difference in the world, and the ability to lead by action rather than talk."

"I break no laws. I fulfill my obligations to society. I have no desire to go above and beyond these parameters. This topic bores me, Alexander, and if it doesn't change then this conversation is finished," Gilgamesh said.

"Fine, fine. Tell me more about your lady love, then. Would you describe her eyes as effulgent orbs?" Alexander asked. Groaning a groan of untold suffering, Gilgamesh ran a hand through his hair.

"Must you go out of your way to try and ruin all that I hold dear to my heart?" he replied. Then Gilgamesh recalled something that had been bugging him. "Alexander. Do you recall that leopard suit of mine?"

Alexander paused mid-chortle and then said, "Why yes, I believe so. You wore it at the dinner party in Athens."

"Not for very long." Gilgamesh smirked. "Regardless, I must get your honest opinion on this matter. Does it make me look like a pimp?"

"I never thought about it that way... You know, if you wore your white fur jacket with all your bling and those shimmery pants, I believe – no, I knowyou would look like a pimp!" Alexander sounded disturbingly enthusiastic about the idea.

"Did you just seriously use the word 'bling'?" Gilgamesh was aghast.

"Ha! Yes! I'm hip with all the lingo and the street slang! Did you know prostitution is legal in the UK?" Alexander shouted, his voice creating feedback.

"Quaint. Don't think I don't realize what you're doing," Gilgamesh said with a wince.

"Oh, sleep on it, Blondie. I don't want to go by myself," Alexander wheedled. "Besides, I have a friend from London you should meet, he –."

"I knew it. You only ever call when you want something from me. No!" Irritation spiked Gilgamesh's temper. Incredible, how someone who wasn't a fool said so many foolish things.

"I don't understand why you refuse to go into any business ventures with me. Together we could have the entire world at our fingertips," Alexander said, sounding less bothered and more bemused.

"I don't want the entire world. Most of it's dull and ugly. I'd much rather be left alone to my own devices," Gilgamesh retorted. A momentary lull followed.

"Sometimes you can be a most disagreeable man, you know that?" Alexander asked.

"Yes, it's part of my charm." His response was acerbic. He heard a noise akin to a sigh on the other line, the rush of air generating a crackle.

"Well, I suppose I should take my leave. At least consider coming, okay? You haven't visited the UK in a few years. You can even bring your girlfriend, if you want," Alexander said. Pleased by the thought of Arturia as his girlfriend, Gilgamesh's mood brightened and he didn't bother correcting the other man.

"Fine. I'll… consider," he said.

Arturia was from the area, after all. Gilgamesh wondered if she ever got homesick. He wasn't quite sure what appeal a miniscule island with only the vaguest appreciation of sunlight held, but if it helped win her over, then he didn't much care. Maybe he wouldn't bother with the funeral and take a trip to Great Britain anyway.

Gilgamesh said goodbye to Alexander and then hung up. He laid there, stared at the phone for a moment, and tried to remember the feel of Arturia's cheek beneath his hand. It had been so warm and almost comforting, his heart had skipped a beat for the briefest of moments. He hadn't felt that way about anyone in a very long time. To feel young again, Gilgamesh mused, was a powerful sensation. He often disdained nostalgia, but perhaps he'd underestimated its power.

Drifting inward, Gilgamesh turned his attention toward the television. He needed a distraction. Whatever was currently on wasn't at all interesting, so he started flipping through the channels. Gilgamesh came across some pornography and paused.

"Special," he murmured, staring at the gyrating bodies on the screen. On the one hand, it was a ridiculous notion. Sex was a biological function necessary for the continued existence of the human species. More than that, what purpose did denying one's self pleasure serve?

On the other hand, there was something almost noble about the idea of abstinence. He wasn't a noble person in the slightest, but he appreciated the sentiment of restraint nonetheless. The idea of holding back out of want rather than need. Gilgamesh watched the porno for a few minutes, grew bored, and started channel surfing again. Vexed, he then turned off the television.

Returning to his vigil, Gilgamesh stared at his cell phone and waited for Arturia to call.


	6. Revelations

In which Arturia has to make unexpected travel plans, and Gilgamesh is more than happy to tag along.

* * *

 _"Children begin by loving their parents; as they grow older they judge them; sometimes they forgive them."_

Arturia brushed the bead curtain aside and entered the professor's office.

Not for the first time, she contemplated the fact that she'd just walked through a bead curtain. It was like stepping onto the set of a bad movie from the sixties. The interior didn't much dispel the notion that Arturia had discovered a portal to a hippie commune.

Burned incense hung thick and cloying in the air. It tickled her nostrils and the back of her throat when she inhaled, and Arturia stifled the cough that threatened with each and every exhale. At least it didn't smell like patchouli oil. The room was bright and colorful, decorated with an assortment of absurd posters and bizarre paraphernalia.

Above all else, there were the flowers. Whether in a pot or a vase, pressed to a frame, or dangled from a string on the ceiling, they were everywhere and could be found in all shades of the spectrum. It lent the room a vibrant and naturalistic atmosphere. She wondered what Gilgamesh would think about the place. He'd have probably found it hilarious.

"Arty! Glad you could make it! How do you do?" Distracted from the magnificent bong displayed in the corner atop a bookshelf, Arturia directed her attention toward her English advisor. He was the sort of man who never seemed to age. Youthful energy burned in Merle's brown eyes, and his pale tresses fell in an unkempt mane about his shoulders.

"Well enough. And yourself?" Arturia said, polite but reserved. She moved a stack of books off the vacant chair and sat down. Merle hummed and tapped the paper he'd been grading.

"Well, now, it's funny you should ask. Have you ever heard of that Rate Your Professor website?" Merle asked. Arturia stared at him.

"Yes."

"Well, apparently, it's a website where you rate your professor!" Merle sounded amazed. "What's next? Dogs walking humans? Is this an American thing? Or was I just not aware of it back in ye ol' world?"

"I'm pretty sure it's because Hector still doesn't know how computers work," Arturia said. "And I'm not sure private tutors qualify, anyway."

"They rated me a four point one out of five." Now Merle looked offended. "I am not a B-. I should at least be a B+. At. Least. Also, I got a red pepper by my name. I don't know what that signifies."

"I believe it means people find you handsome," Arturia told him. She began to feel annoyed.

"Ah. Well, of course! Because peppers are spicy, or hot, which is also slang for attractive. Clever." Merle appeared mollified. Then he frowned. "But this just raises even more questions. What degree of hotness am I? Am I a bhut jolokia or a poblano?"

"Is this necessary, sir?" Arturia asked. Her tone was flat.

"Yes. I need to know what kind of pepper the people think I am, Arturia," he replied. His words were grave but his eyes twinkled with a playful light.

She glowered.

"Would you be serious, professor. Is this about the exam? Did I do poorly?" Arturia asked, and kept still through sheer willpower. Merle blinked.

"Huh? Ah, yes, that. You did fine."

"Fine?" Arturia repeated, raising her voice. Now Merle looked exasperated.

"Relax. You always perform well in academics. Do you remember why I convinced to you become an English major, as opposed to pre-law?" he asked. Arturia obsessed over what exactly 'fine' entailed, but forced herself to stop and pay attention.

"Because law schools like students coming in from a wide variety of fields."

"Err, well, yes. True." Merle coughed and rubbed his chin. "Moreover, I wanted to put you outside your comfort zone. Common law is so boring and stuffy. Like multiple choice tests. Do this and this and this, even though that might be more interesting."

Arturia sat there and tried to figure out if Merle just implied that she was boring and stuffy.

"English, on the other hand, is the written art of romance." Merle went starry eyed, and Arturia refrained from saying something rude. This was a tirade she'd heard in the past, and would no doubt hear again in the future. "There is nothing more pulchritudinous in all the world than words. Pulchritude. It's another way of saying beautiful. Isn't that fantastic? The flexibility and infinite possibility of language never ceases to amaze me. I'll probably never use pulchritudinous in a sentence again, but the fact that it exists regardless... amazing! Language is the cornerstone of reason and thought, as well as emotion and communication, and that's why I wanted you to major in English, Arty."

Merle beamed at her.

"If this isn't about my exam, then why am I here?" she asked. Her query held a bit of an edge.

"Do I need a reason? Perhaps I just wished to see my favorite pupil's smiling face," Merle said. Arturia scowled in response.

"Don't waste my time, sir." Her patience rapidly frayed thin.

There were two things in college that she couldn't abide: group projects and professors that wanted to be her friend. What made it all the worse was that Merle knew her well.

In truth, he was by and large the reason Arturia was where she was at all. He'd been her tutor (and Keith's) when she was younger, before he'd accepted a position as a professor in America. It had been his suggestion that prompted her to move, and his recommendation that helped her receive a scholarship.

At the end of the day, Arturia owed Merle, and she resented that indisputable fact.

Merle did something curious, then. He straightened, and his expression turned serious.

"I had a long talk with Hector the other day, you know. Good man. Rather dim, but a good man nonetheless. We decided it would be best if I was the one who told you everything. You're aware he's fallen on hard times, no need for him to fly across the Atlantic, frightfully expensive, that, and this sort of thing is best discussed face-to-face," he said. Arturia stared, intrigued by the shift in attitude. "Have you ever heard of Sir Arthur Pendragon?"

The name sounded familiar. She bit her lip. Then it clicked.

"Pendragon. It's a big banking firm," Arturia said. Merle nodded.

"Arthur isn't a bank, obviously, but he owns a controlling interest in the corporation. Well, did. He's dead, you see." Merle twirled his hair, a nervous tic. When she was a girl he'd fiddle with a beard, although Merle had been clean shaven for some time now. He was the type of person who almost seemed to get younger as he got older.

"My condolences," Arturia said, although she still didn't know where this was headed. Her stomach twisted into knots. Foreboding surged through her.

"I... knew Arthur. He had many faults, but one quality he had that I always admired was his willingness to continue moving forward. But, well, as you get older, there comes a point where you can't anymore, because the end of the line is in sight. So instead you look back, and contemplate all your past mistakes. Regrets you wish you could make right." Merle took a deep breath. "Arthur Pendragon was your biological father, Arturia. He also named you the primary beneficiary in his will."

Merle kept talking, but Arturia became incapable of comprehending the words exiting his mouth. Everything turned alien and unintelligible. Within the stream of gibberish Arturia found she recognized a few terms. Executor... probate... family... heir... funeral...

It was that last one that allowed her lock down and get a grip. Arturia clenched her jaw.

"When is the funeral?" she asked. Merle hesitated.

"A week from now," he said. "In London."

"That's the middle of exams." Arturia's hands balled into fists.

"I know. I've been talking to some people to try and push back the date so you can finish the semester. You should check with your other professors, though, and see if you can take some early." Merle leaned back in his chair and studied her with dark eyes.

"I will."

"This is no doubt a shock. Hector and I will help you work through it, Art," he said. "There will be a period of adjustment, but I think this will benefit you in the long run."

Arturia thought that was a rather callous way of putting it, but she also supposed that Merle had her best interests at heart. And she found it difficult to care about a dead father who'd known enough of her to write her into a will, but never bothered to visit or at least make her aware of his existence. Arturia nodded and tried to ignore the lump in her throat.

"Thank you. Will you excuse me? I need some time to think."

"Of course," he replied. "I'll let you know if I'm successful changing the date. We'll want to go over some other details later as well. And Art? I'm sorry."

Arturia felt a flicker of affection for her old mentor, although she was mostly numb. She uttered a banal farewell and then left. Once outside the office building, Arturia leaned against the wall and retrieved her phone. Her hands shook. Arturia dialed a number. Each individual ring lasted a lifetime.

"Yo. This is Keith."

Pause.

"Keith, I need to –."

"I can't get to the phone right now." A goofy laugh. "Leave a message and I'll get back to you. Or just shoot me a text like a normal person, Art."

Arturia grumbled under her breath. Every time. Every time, she fell for it. Oddly enough, the familiar incident lessened the weight constricting her chest.

"Call me as soon as you can, Kay. Please." She hung up and then stared at her cell.

Arturia didn't know what to do.

If Keith wasn't answering his phone, then there was a very good chance he was passed out drunk. It wouldn't be the first time. And yet she needed to talk to someone. Arturia realized, then, just how few friends she had, and the ones she did have were really her superiors playing the role of occasional confidant. A sudden and overwhelming sense of isolation struck her.

Arturia thought about contacting Irisviel. She would no doubt listen. And yet, as Arturia scrolled through her contacts, she couldn't help but stop and linger on Gilgamesh's name.

She wanted his perspective. She wanted to hear his voice again.

Arturia called Gilgamesh.

He answered on the first ring.

"Arturia?" His tone carried a strange inflection. Arturia didn't dwell on it, preoccupied with her own problems.

"Gilgamesh." She attempted to sound normal, but wavered somewhat at the end of his name.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, because of course Gilgamesh picked up on it. Arturia wasn't sure if she loved or hated his perceptiveness. She swallowed.

"I – do you go to the gym?" Arturia blurted out. Her brow furrowed and she felt annoyed with herself for asking such a random, inane question. Stupid.

"I think you know the answer to that," Gilgamesh said smugly.

"Forget it. This was a mistake." She already regretted her rash decision.

"No, wait! Yes. I work out. On occasion, I'll do it at a gym." His response carried a hint of panic. Arturia considered the new information.

"There's a fitness center on campus. You know where I'll be," she said.

"So it would seem," Gilgamesh said. "I'll see you soon."

...

The fitness center smelled like a mixture of tarmac and sweat. It was a scent Arturia rather liked; she associated it with perseverance and exercise. She was doing leg presses when Gilgamesh arrived.

The sense of relief Arturia felt upon spying him almost bowled her over; she hadn't realized until that moment just how much she'd missed Gilgamesh. He wore a red cutoff tee that showcased his muscular arms, and she worked hard to keep her eyes on his face.

Arturia stopped her repetitions and sat up, waving him to her side. Gilgamesh approached, watching her with an expression of blatant curiosity.

"You look rather tense," he noted. It was loud inside, the clang of machines and people grunting mixing together in discordant symphony. Somehow, Gilgamesh's authoritative voice cut straight through it all.

"As opposed to my usual lax nature?" Arturia retorted. Gilgamesh chuckled and nodded.

"True." He hesitated. "You sounded distressed over the phone."

Arturia stared at her knees. Self-conscious, she played with the edges of her athletic shorts. After a few fruitless seconds in which she searched for the right words to articulate her feelings, Arturia asked, "What's your father like?"

Gilgamesh looked surprised and then guarded. He said, "My father has always supported me in my endeavors. I suppose I'm rather lucky in that respect. And you?"

"Hector took me in when I was a baby," Arturia said, slow and low. Gilgamesh sat on the bench next to her. He never broke eye contact, which she appreciated. "He cared for me and treated me well, for he is a good man. But, well, despite that, I never really felt like his daughter. And I don't think he ever really thought of me as his child. Keith has always been the center of his universe."

Arturia wasn't upset talking about this with Gilgamesh. If anything, she felt tired. Her muscles ached from the strain of her workout. The burn was normally one that Arturia enjoyed. But right then she felt unmotivated and set adrift in the world. Everything Arturia thought she'd understood about herself had turned on its head with a single sentence.

More than anything, the uncertainty bothered her. Arturia hated the not knowing. The sense that her life was outside her control. She wasn't sure what this new development meant, or how to handle it. And that unnerved Arturia.

Gilgamesh didn't respond at first. He wore a slight frown, but otherwise remained opaque. Arturia wished she could read him easier.

"Keith... the idiot back at your apartment?" Gilgamesh asked. Arturia almost rolled her eyes. Of all the things to focus on.

"He's not an idiot, Gilgamesh," she said, although she was irritated with her brother for not returning her calls. Therefore her defense of him wasn't quite as passionate as it might've otherwise been. Gilgamesh snorted, his expression skeptical.

"If you say so. I don't mind lending you money, you know," he said. Shocked, Arturia blinked. Then she did roll her eyes, insulted by how assured Gilgamesh sounded.

"No, no, that's not it. Well, I suppose in a way it is about money. I just found out my actual father is a man by the name of Arthur Pendragon. SirArthur Pendragon, apparently. You've heard of him?" Arturia asked. Gilgamesh appeared startled, and then recovered.

"Yes. He's dead."

"Indeed. He named me his heir," she said bitterly. Gilgamesh looked contemplative.

"Have you had a chance to look over the will?" he asked. Arturia shook her head.

"Not yet. I just found out. I imagine I'll get the chance when I leave for the funeral next week." A wave of anxiety threatened to drown her. "I don't know how I'm going to find the time on such short notice. I'll have to leave, fly to England. What am I going to do about work, about the rest of my exams? God, what am I going to do about Keith? I can't leave him alone. He'll hurt himself, or worse, go shopping without a list and impulse buy a bunch of stuff we don't need."

Gilgamesh laughed and she scowled.

"Arturia, Arturia. It's going to be okay, I promise," he said.

"How do you know?" she asked.

"Because I said so." Gilgamesh brimmed with confidence. Arturia frowned.

"This isn't a joke."

"I know it's not," he responded. Gilgamesh looked at her with a firm intensity. Her skin prickled.

"Well, then act like it. I have a plan. Had a plan. A ten year plan, in fact. I didn't take into account… absentee fathers who suddenly grew an unneeded and inconvenient conscious post-mortem," Arturia told him. The more she thought about it, the angrier it made her. What a cowardly act.

"I would've been impressed if you did account for that. Your premonitions would almost be at my level." Gilgamesh placed a hand on her shoulder. Arturia cracked and smiled, although it was short lived. His hand felt warm and comforting. "This is the sort of thing that needs time to settle. And you forget that I own the fine establishment you work at. Take time off. There won't be an issue. I'm sure the von Einzbern girl will understand as well."

"Irisviel," she corrected. Gilgamesh smirked. "And that sounds unethical."

"It's not," he insisted. "You're going through a family emergency. Your coworkers can cover for you while you're gone."

"I don't want to put them in that predicament," Arturia said unhappily. She hated being a burden unto others.

"How often have you done it for them?" Gilgamesh asked. Arturia didn't answer. "I rest my case. Exams might be a little trickier, but again, once you explain the situation to your professors, they'll be willing to work with you. As for Ken –."

"Keith."

"Whatever. He's a grown man. He can handle himself, and if not, then that means I'm right and you're wrong about the level of his intelligence," Gilgamesh said. Arturia snorted and then lapsed into sober silence.

"I-I, thank you. Gilgamesh. I appreciate your advice."

"It's my pleasure. You'll find my cup overfloweth," he replied. Arturia laughed. More of a chuckle, really. Gilgamesh coughed, and almost appeared nervous. "You know, I could accompany you. To the funeral."

Arturia felt very warm, then. She twiddled her thumbs.

"I mean... do you want to go?" she asked in a small voice.

"Yes. I wouldn't have asked, otherwise. Even if you didn't, I imagine I already received an invite." Gilgamesh postured and preened. "Might as well, how do you say it, cross the pond? Not to mention I have to witness the reaction of Sir Pendragon's next of kin toward you with my own eyes. I imagine it'll be incredibly entertaining."

"Oh God," Arturia said, alarmed. "What do you think his relations will be like?"

"Passive aggressive and full of self-righteous indignation over the perceived slight of you existing, and thereby depriving them of more money." Gilgamesh's tone was light, but his eyes were serious.

"Oh."

"Don't worry," Gilgamesh assured her. "I have a vast and intimate knowledge of those curious creatures known as rich folk. I shall teach you the ins and outs of our petty ways."

"I'll hold you to that," Arturia said, amused. However, she still felt apprehensive. "Let's talk about something else."

Arturia ended up demonstrating to Gilgamesh her strength training routine. He talked quite a lot, offering a stray comment or suggestion before devolving into a miscellaneous anecdote that more often than not revolved around himself, but Arturia didn't mind.

She wasn't quite sure how to come to terms with the happiness she felt being around Gilgamesh again, despite his tendency to utter something tone deaf every once in a while. Arturia decided not to overthink it, and focused on getting her reps done.

Eventually, after showering and changing out of her gym clothes, Arturia walked with Gilgamesh through the parking lot and back to his car.

"I wasn't sure you even knew how to drive," Arturia commented.

"I don't do it often," Gilgamesh replied. "It's bad for my blood pressure."

"A little bit of road rage?" Arturia asked wryly. He puffed out his chest.

"Nothing about me is little. If I could, I would pass a law that required all people to clear the roads in a mile perimeter around me, so I don't have to deal with anyone ever. Like a parade," he said. Shaking her head, Arturia blinked when Gilgamesh halted beside a bright red Bugatti. "Here we are."

They were both quiet.

"Gilgamesh –," she started saying.

"I missed you." He met her gaze, but he seemed uncomfortable. "Just so you know. I thought…"

"That I wouldn't call back?" Arturia asked. Now she wasn't just warm, but boiling hot. Wasn't it almost winter? Her skin itched and her palms were clammy.

"There was a slight doubt. Infinitesimal," Gilgamesh said, in a concerted effort to bandage his wounded pride. "But, yes, still there."

Arturia took a deep breath and summoned her courage.

"Gilgamesh," she said. He looked at her. "Thank you. For listening. I don't…"

Arturia trailed off. Then she stepped up to him, on her toes, and pressed a chaste kiss against the corner of his mouth. It happened and then it was over. Her own lips tingled as Arturia pulled back and shyly ducked her head.

"I knew it," Gilgamesh said. He sounded pleased to the point of absurdity. She felt elated and irate at the same time. Everything seemed just a tad brighter, in that moment.

"Don't push your luck."

"I don't believe in luck." His expression was a combination of intensity and playfulness, and her pulse quickened at the sight. Then Gilgamesh grinned and tugged her closer by the sleeve of her jacket.

Arturia let him, and she let Gilgamesh kiss her, too. He was warm and soft and smelled good. His cheeks were smooth and clean shaven. She put her hands on his chest, somewhat hesitant, and felt the steady thrum of his heart beneath her fingers.

It was – nice. She sighed and kissed him back.

The next thing Arturia knew, Gilgamesh's tongue brushed against her lower lip. She jerked away with a bright red blush. Arturia cleared her throat.

"That was bold," she muttered. He chuckled, but his eyes sported a tender fondness at odds with his often harsh countenance. He ran a finger through her bangs, still damp from the shower.

"I want to see you again. As soon as possible," Gilgamesh said.

Arturia didn't respond for a long moment. She should've declined – she needed to get her affairs in order. Purchase plane tickets. Figure out her work situation, and redo the study schedule she'd painstakingly established. Plus she had to make sure Keith wasn't dead in a ditch somewhere. But for every reason not to, Arturia couldn't ignore the one overriding reason in his favor; she wanted to see him again, too.

Maybe Gilgamesh was right, and everything would be okay.

"I'd like that," Arturia said.


End file.
